


Game Night Chapter One Rewrite

by Threatie



Category: Gmod: Murder, Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate universe- Grand theft auto setting, Blood, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fear, Female Jack Pattillo, Gun Violence, Guns, Knifeplay, Knives, M/M, Murder, Rape Roleplay, Temporary Character Death, Trans Jack Pattillo, Voyeurism, consensual murder, substance use, trans female characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threatie/pseuds/Threatie
Summary: A rewrite of Game Night Chapter One
Relationships: Gavin Free/Michael Jones, Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood, Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free, Jeremy Dooley/Jack Pattillo, Jeremy Dooley/Michael Jones, Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Game Night Chapter One Rewrite

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Game Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512298) by [Threatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threatie/pseuds/Threatie), [Wrespawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn). 



> Game Night (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512298/chapters/41252903) has been a mostly collaborative effort between myself and Wrespawn. However, the first chapter was written solely by Wrespawn, and as the story grew and progressed, this first chapter began to feel inconsistent. Not only because only one author had contributed to it, but specifically because, as Game Night continued, we found ourselves becoming more careful, explicit, and up-front with the consent. (While noncon and dubcon are enjoyable in their own ways, and can be found abundantly among our other works, Game Night has taken a different direction.) So, in the spirit of collaboration, I'm now proud to present to you an alternate version of this chapter, which I have attempted to rewrite in such a way that it lines up with our later, more consent-focused content. The original Chapter One can be read at the indicated link.

The beer can _clanged_ as a bullet blasted through it and ripped it off the table. It clattered to the floor alongside a dozen other bullet-punctured cans. 

Jeremy lowered his pistol with a soft exhale. Wind gusted across the empty lot as he reloaded his gun and raised it again. Three more cans sat on the table, labels glinting dully in the overcast daylight. Jeremy narrowed his eyes and aimed.

_Bang_

Another can skittered off the table, a fresh bullet hole torn through its aluminum side. The action was meditative, the shooting range a good place to organize his thoughts. Jeremy adjusted his aim several degrees, sights locked on the next beer can. As he squeezed the trigger, memories of his earlier conversation with Geoff played over in his head.

_“Heard you guys had a fun night.”_

_“Heh. Yeah.” Jeremy sipped his coffee. “It’s always a fun night with the crew.”_

_The kitchen was full of pleasantly slanting light, the midmorning sun warming the table beneath his hands. Geoff shuffling in wearing his bathrobe and slippers completed the cozy image, his hair mussed and tattoos softened by comforting familiarity._

_“Heard you went skydiving.”_

_Jeremy froze, looking up at Geoff with a guilty expression. As far as he knew, there was no standing rule among the Fakes specifically forbidding leaping out of helicopters. All the same, there was something in Geoff’s tone that implied this wasn’t a normal question._

_But Geoff didn’t look angry as he prepared his own steaming mug. If anything, he looked hopeful._

_“Yeah,” Jeremy ventured after a moment of silence. “Uh, Gavin suggested it, and I...I wanted to try.”_

_Geoff slid into the seat across from him, cheery mug cupped between his hands. “Did you enjoy it?”_

_“Yeah.” Jeremy was surprised by the ease with which he spoke, the confirmation coming almost without thought. He remembered the wind against his face, the cold, that weightless sensation of falling...he sipped his coffee, momentarily lost in thought. The memories, although charged with adrenaline, were pleasant. He could feel Geoff’s gaze on him, tracking his reaction._

_“That wasn’t your first recreational death, was it?”_

_“No, it was...hm.” Jeremy’s voice trailed off as he counted. “My third, or...maybe fourth in total? It was definitely the scariest one, though. Ryan, uh...he kills me pretty gently.” His cheeks flushed at the memory of careful hands and an even more careful blade, and he quickly took a gulp of coffee. “...Uh, so; why do you ask?”_

_Geoff was grinning, looking at Jeremy as though he’d given just the right answer. “There’s this game we like to play. It’s called Murder.”_

A thrumming in the air pulled Jeremy’s gaze up and his thoughts back to the present. He turned, scanning the cloudy skies. There, off in the distance and rapidly growing closer, was the familiar outline of a chopper. 

He laughed as he holstered his pistol, reaching up to wave the chopper closer. When Jack had said ‘we’ll pick you up,’ she hadn’t specified the vehicle. 

The chopper touched down in a whirl of windswept leaves. Jeremy ran forward, pulling himself up and in.

The crew was all packed into the cramped cockpit, shoulder to shoulder. Jeremy could see Jack in the pilot’s seat.

Jeremy grabbed Geoff’s hand, letting the man haul him into the crowded chopper. He flopped into the narrow space between Michael and Ryan as the door was slammed shut and the chopper began to lift away from the ground. 

“So, this is how we do game night?”

Ryan clapped him on the shoulder, a wide smile splitting his face. “This is game night! Gotta travel in style! Plus, some of our maps are pretty remote. Easier to come in from above.”

Jeremy peered out the window and watched as the city dropped away below them. “So where’re we going? Where’s the game being held?” He had a sudden image of his five crew mates sprinting through an open field, weapons point at each other.

Geoff clapped his hands together. “We’re doing the warehouse map this time! Reasonably straightforward, just one level, perfect for your first time.” 

“Oooh, that’s a good map. Big one, though.”

Jeremy glanced out the window. He could see the city receding in the distance as Jack flew them off into the rocky wilderness that surrounded it. 

_In the well-lit kitchen, Geoff grinned. “Fake AH Crew tradition! The game is called Murder.”_

_Jeremy laughed. “Felonies aren’t games, boss. Fun though they may be.”_

_“I know, and I’m glad you take our heists seriously. Murder, though? That’s fun.” There was something in Geoff’s smile, that edge that came with the knowledge that one could attempt a death-defying stunt and deny Death either way._

_Jeremy swallowed. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the cheery room felt much more serious. “How do you play?”_

_Geoff held up one finger. “Don’t die.” He held up another. “Look for the boxes. There’s good shit in ‘em.” A third finger, and a significant glance that had Jeremy on the edge of his seat. “And if you’re the killer...kill everyone.”_

_Jeremy shivered. A strange chill was spreading up his spine. “When you say kill, you really mean… ”_

_“I mean kill. Murder. Send back to the respawn room.”_

_“So, the goal of the game is...to kill everyone?_

_Geoff grinned. “That’s the killer’s goal. For everyone else, the goal is not to die.”_

_Jeremy’s heart skipped. “ … not to die?”_

_“Yeah. The game’s simple. The killer tries to kill everyone, and the bystanders try to stay alive long enough to throw a gun together. Whoever was lucky enough to start with a completed gun is in charge of shooting anyone who’s acting suspicious. Don’t get too excited, though.” Geoff grinned as he spoke. “You’ve only got one shot, and if you shoot the wrong person, there’s a penalty.”_

The chopper tilted slightly, the landscape seeming to tilt beneath them as Jack adjusted their course, and Jeremy was jolted out of his thoughts. The game was about to get underway, and there were still things he didn’t know.

“So,” he ventured, glancing around at his crewmates, “how do we start?”

“Oooh, it’s Jeremy’s first time!” Gavin was practically bouncing in his seat. “I love it!”

“First, take a communicator.” Geoff pointed to the pile of what appeared to be handcuffs on the floor. “Take one of these too.”

“Okay…” Cautiously, as though they might explode, Jeremy picked up a com and one of the cuffs. The goal of this game, he knew, was an ending drenched in blood. He didn’t know enough about how it was played to be sure which parts were significant; which items were interchangeable and unimportant, and which might get him killed.

Geoff’s next gesture was toward a pile of smooth metal boxes, not unlike safety deposit boxes.

"Take one of the boxes, and don’t open it yet.”

Jeremy eyed the pyramid of boxes warily. He remembered this from Geoff’s explanation. A blind draw, like pieces of paper from a hat, was all that determined who was the hunter and who was prey. 

He put his com in, clipped the cuffs to his belt, and picked up a box. It was metal, heavier than it looked, and about large enough to hold a handgun. The rest of the crew were grabbing objects off the floor as well, each member taking a box, a com, and a pair of cuffs.

“If I get an empty again, I’m gonna be pissed,” huffed Ryan, glaring at his box as though it had wronged him.

Gavin pointed at Jeremy’s hip suddenly. “Oi, cheater! Jeremy’s cheating, you can’t bring that!”

Jeremy frowned. “ … I can’t bring my dick to game night?”

“Oh, that’s practically encouraged. Doubly so if you packed supplies.”

“What Gavin’s trying to say,” Geoff interrupted as Jeremy opened his mouth, “is that you can’t bring outside weapons onto the map. Gotta get ‘em in your box or find ‘em once you’re there. Pass it over here, we’ll leave it on the chopper for the game.”

Jeremy pulled the holster off his belt, handing it to Geoff. Geoff placed it on the floor, in the space the piles of gear had occupied.

Geoff slipped his com in his ear and pressed it. “Testing coms now. Testing.”

_“Mine works,”_ said Gavin.

_“Works.”_

_“Mine too.”_

_“Eyyyo!”_

Each voice sounded off in Jeremy’s ear. He gave Geoff a thumbs-up. “All good.”

“Cool, coms work. So, Jack’s flying us to the site right now, she’s gonna drop us all off in different places and then she’s gonna join us. You’ll drop outside the warehouse, but once the game starts, you’re not supposed to leave it.”

“Cool. So, uh…” Jeremy rattled the metal that was clipped to his belt. “Why do I have handcuffs?”

A slow grin spread across Geoff’s face. “Remember what I said about not shooting the wrong person?”

“Yeah? What does that…” Something clicked, and a thrill raced through Jeremy that gave him a smile of his own. “You lose your weapon privileges, huh?”

Geoff laughed. “More like your hand privileges. You shoot an innocent, you get to sit and wait for the killer to find you. Kinda screws over your teammates, too, unless someone else has got a full gun together. You only get the one bullet. That’s on an honor system, by the way,” Geoff added. “And don’t go around cuffing people. You can only use them to cuff yourself if you shoot the wrong person, nothing else.”

“Okay, closing in on the first drop point,” Jack called from the pilot’s seat. Jeremy grabbed the wall for support as the aircraft lurched downwards. “Someone get ready.”

“Let Jeremy drop first,” suggested Michael. “It’s his first time.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy laughed. “Let me be the first to run, unarmed, into the murder-building.” As the start of the game drew closer, the excitement was beginning to sharpen into a crisp, bright fear that sparkled in his fingertips and narrowed his focus, the promise of a good life-or-death struggle only minutes away.

“You don’t _know_ that you don’t have a gun,” Geoff pointed out reasonably. “Look around inside and you can build one. There’s gun parts scattered around the compound in boxes. Find enough and you can assemble them into a full gun. No using a gun if you’re the killer, but you can totally steal the parts so other people can’t use them.”

Geoff wrenched open the chopper door, and the noise of thrumming blades flooded the cockpit. A thought seemed to occur to him, and he shouted over the mechanical roar. “Oh, and if someone says ‘safeword,’ stop everything you’re doing! We play nice while we knife each other!” 

Jeremy nodded, making his way carefully between the rows of seats.The ground was blissfully close below. “Got it. See you on the inside!”

Jeremy stumbled as he hit the ground, but kept his balance. He turned back to the helicopter, and the crew, to see them waving.

Geoff gave him a thumbs-up. “See you inside!”

The door closed and the aircraft began to lift away, aggressive chopping thrum growing quieter. Jeremy let his arms drop as he watched it sail away into the overcast sky. 

The city was a steely silhouette in the distance. Between Jeremy and the distant etchings of civilization stretched rocky terrain broken by scraggly trees, one or two dusty roads carving up the landscape. Clutching his box, Jeremy turned to face the warehouse. The structure was long since ruined, the old walls layered with graffiti, iron support beams exposed where concrete had cracked. Through the old doors and broken walls, he could see it stretching back, room after room into the darkness. Artificial lights glinted in the gloom, too crisp and clear to have been a part of the warehouse’s original installation. This space had been curated for a purpose.

Jeremy touched his com. “Uh. Testing?”

_“Yeah, we hear you.”_

Jeremy clicked the latch on his box and creaked it open. “ … Uh, guys? I think there’s a problem. Mine’s empty.”

_“That means you’re an unarmed bystander,”_ provided Jack.

Geoff scoffed through the com. _“Suuuuuure it’s empty. Jeremy thinks he can pull one over on us.”_

_“Jeremy’s the killer, guys!”_ proclaimed Michael.

_“Wait, but he hasn’t had time to strategize. He might actually be innocent.”_

Michael’s voice sounded unconvinced. _“Unless that’s what he wants you to think.”_

Jeremy adjusted his com and closed his box. “Michael, come on, I’m not that clever. 

The warehouse suddenly felt very big and very still. Jeremy’s gaze darted through the concrete maze looming before him. His breath was quick, shallow. Six crew members. Six pulses. One knife. 

Jack chimed in. _“Jeremy, just so you know, you don’t have to play if you’re having second thoughts. Anyone can tap out at any time. I’ll pick you up and we can reset."_

“No! No, it’s okay!” Jeremy heaved a deep breath. “I’m… fuck… I’m good. I’m good. Just uh… shaking.”

_“Scared?”_

“Excited.”

_“Jeremy’s the killer, guys. Someone shoot him.”_

_“Nuh uh. Michael’s got the gun and Michael ain’t puttin’ on no handcuffs. I’ll shoot Jeremy when I see him whip out a damn knife.”_

_“Oh, Jeremy!”_ Geoff’s voice in the com made him jump. _“There’s boundaries you should know that completely slipped my mind. Keep your kills clean for now, yeah? No weird shit, don’t go ripping out eyeballs or anything. We’ll get into the specifics later.”_

The warning echoed in Jeremy’s head, terrifying and intriguing in equal measure.“ … Boundaries, huh?” he murmured into his mic, keeping his voice quiet.

_“Yeah, some of us really don’t like being killed in certain ways,”_ Jack answered. _“But everyone’s okay with a quick shot to the head or chest, so just stick to that and we’ll be good.”_

Ryan’s voice interrupted with a loud groan. _“God fucking dammit!”_

_“ … Can we help you, Ryan?”_

_“Empty box again.”_

_“Ryan’s the killer, guys.”_

_“I am not the killer! Believe me, I wish I was!”_

_“So are we starting? Is everyone dropped?”_

_“Yep, everyone’s dropped and I just parked the chopper. Game on!”_

Jeremy snapped his box shut, his pulse skipping like a flighty animal. He turned to the looming warehouse and took a deep breath. Look for boxes. Don’t die. Play the game called Murder.

_“Good luck out there, lads, remember to always trust your boy Gavvy.”_

_“Gavin, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”_

Jeremy stepped into the warehouse.

Ruined concrete closed around him. Jeremy scanned the broken walls and doorways as he picked his way around the rubble. The sterile lights cast strange shadows. Gravel crunched under his shoes as he stepped through a shattered hole in the wall and into the next room, leaving the daylight behind.

_“Later, when you know everyone’s boundaries, you can get creative,”_ Ryan added, sliding easily into Geoff’s earlier warning. _“Some people kill with a signature, and some people have favorite ways to die. Once you know them, there’s a lot you can do to hide your identity. Unless you just wanna go for it, of course.”_

Jeremy peered around a corner and down a dusty hall. No sign of another living person. Cautiously, he crept down the hall, ducking under hanging chains. Between every breath, he listened for the crunch of another pair of footsteps picking through the rubble.

“Sounds fun. Wish I had a weapon.”

Ryan laughed. _“A gun wouldn’t do you any good, if that’s how you wanna play. The gun’s good for other things. Mainly, bossing around your fellow players.”_

Jeremy peeked through a doorway. A dusty storage room greeted him, the empty shelves long rusted. He picked his way through the room carefully, stepping over fallen shelves. As he rounded the corner, he almost collided with Gavin.

“Sh-shit fuck fuck fuck —“ Jeremy reeled back to a safe distance as Gavin did the same. “H-holy shit, Gavin —“ 

“If I die, it’s Jeremy!” Gavin yelped into his mic. 

Jeremy’s jaw tensed. “W-well if I die, it’s Gavin!”

“Steady on; if I were the killer, you’d already be dead!” 

Jeremy caught his breath. He could see Gavin doing the same. Fuck. This was how the game worked. Messy, panicked encounters like this, full of fear and desperation, ending in a gunshot or a meaty slice. It felt so chillingly real now, face to face with another person.

The game was called Murder, and these concrete floors were going to taste blood soon.

“ …Is something gonna happen, love?” Gavin ventured. “Gonna harm me in some way?”

Jeremy’s head was still spinning. “W-we’re cool so long as you move along.”

“Sure.” Gavin hesitated. “ … Unless…”

“ … Unless what?”

“Did Geoff tell you about the fun parts of Murder?”

Jeremy frowned. “He told me to keep my kills clean until we all talk boundaries, if that’s what you mean.”

A slow smile was creeping across Gavin’s face. He pulled his mic away from his mouth, leaning conspiratorially forward, although his feet never moved, keeping a cautious distance between them. “What I mean is, did Geoff tell you to bring lube?”

The words sent a prickle of something delicious up Jeremy’s spine. He shivered, mind already rushing ahead to answer the question as he asked it. “Why would I bring lube?”

“Hah! Thought it might’ve slipped his mind!”Gavin reached into his pocket, an innocent enough gesture that nonetheless made Jeremy tense, until that hand emerged holding a small, familiar bottle. Gavin tossed it across the space between them with a casual flick of his wrist, and Jeremy stumbled to catch it.

“So now you know, you, ah…” Gavin gestured hopefully at the bottle in Jeremy’s hand. “You fancy using that?”

Jeremy’s heart jumped. ‘ _Yes_ ’ lingered just behind his lips, a sudden dizzying need to step closer, to see what happened when he closed that gap.

But, that wouldn’t be strategic. Wasn’t how he’d decided to play. He licked his lips, forcing different words from between them. “ … Do you seriously think I’m going to fall for that?”

Gavin’s grin was teasing. “C’mon, I’m not gonna stab you. Not with a knife, anyway.”

“How do you know that I’m not the killer, huh?” Jeremy took another step back. “There’s only one way you could know for sure.”

“Maybe I don’t know.” Gavin shrugged. “Maybe I’m just in the mood for a good screw and not too bothered about the consequences. There’s only, what… a twenty percent chance you slit my throat? Sounds worth it. And, that’s assuming I’m hoping you’re _not_ the killer.”

Gears were turning slowly in Jeremy’s mind. Still, he wanted Gavin to give him confirmation. “Spell that out for me?”

“Ryan’s brought his knives to bed before, yeah? Showed you the full benefits of immortality?” Gavin drew a finger slowly across his throat, somehow managing to make the gesture appear lewd. “Maybe I don’t mind it when my killer plays rough with me.”

Geoff’s voice buzzed in Jeremy’s ear. _“Jeremy, who are you talking to?”_

“Gavin,” Jeremy said, reaching up to touch the com as though Geoff were a physical presence he could lay his hand on, could touch for reassurance while he pointed out the threat. “He’s being weird.”

_“Oh shit. Weird in a killer-y way?”_

“Yeah, might be weird in a killer-y way.”

Gavin held a finger over his smile. “Goes both ways, of course. Only a twenty percent chance I’ll slit your throat, either. So, now you know it’s on the table...sound like something you want?”

For a moment, Jeremy was frozen. The fear and anticipation had his heart racing, and just the thought of trying to fuck in a place like this was making him dizzy. A rushed, panicked rut on the concrete, adrenaline burning through his veins, hushed breath and sweaty skin-on-skin, never knowing if the next breath would be the last…

Michael’s voice was rough over the com. _“So is Gavin the killer or not? Am I shooting him next time I see him?”_

Jeremy pulled the mic away from his mouth. _“Ask me back at headquarters,”_ he whispered to Gavin. He pulled the mic back, raising his voice to answer Michael. “He hasn’t pulled out a knife but I’m not gonna complain if you gun him down.”

Gavin winked. “Can give it a first run somewhere safe, if you like. I know where Ryan keeps the game knives.”

Jeremy watched as Gavin turned and slipped away, leaving both of them unharmed. He looked down at the bottle in his hand, then shoved it into his pocket, feeling a warm surge of affection for Gavin as he did so. It may not’ve been a gun piece he’d been given, but the knowledge and ability to act on it was, arguably, even more valuable. 

Turning, Jeremy strode forward and almost bumped straight into Ryan. 

“What were you and Gavin talking about?”

Jeremy jolted back, hurrying to give himself distance. “Gavin was filling me in on the...the fun parts of game night.”

“Ah.” Ryan visibly relaxed, a knowing smile starting to take shape. “The murderfucking.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy could feel a blush begin to darken his cheeks. “The murderfucking.”

“Wish I had a knife for you, if that’s something you’re down for."

"It, ah..." Jeremy shifted slightly, feeling more aware of his body the longer Ryan looked at him. "It might be." 

"It's okay." Ryan's tone was reassuring. Helpful, almost. "You don't have to know for certain. You've only just started. I can ask you again later, after you've played a few times." He pulled his own mic back into place and pointed at something behind Jeremy. “You gonna pick up that gun piece?”

Jeremy turned, caught a glimpse of a metal box sitting on the table behind him, then spun back towards Ryan. “ … A-all yours,” he mumbled. He didn’t step out of the way.

Ryan hesitated for a moment. Then, he took a step towards the table, then another. It was trust, risk. Jeremy held his breath as Ryan stepped closer. Fuck. Arm range. He was too tense to move as Ryan closed the gap.

Ryan’s shoulder brushed Jeremy as he passed. Jeremy tensed, chest heaving slightly, and Ryan stepped past him.

Fuck. Past him. Ryan touched him, and nothing happened. For a moment, the air seemed perfectly still. Jeremy swallowed. He reached slowly into his pocket, closed his hand around the knife, and flicked the blade open.

He had to do it now. Now. Before Ryan turned around. Before he saw the knife.

“Two gun parts for me,” Ryan announced to his com, his back turned to Jeremy as he opened the box. “Well on my way.”

Now. _Now_.

Jeremy cursed under his breath and grabbed Ryan from behind, slapping a hand over his mouth and flicking the knife up under his jaw, blade pressed against his throat.

_Slit him open._ Jeremy’s breath was heavy against Ryan’s shoulder, his hand shaking, the knife wobbling on Ryan’s neck. He could feel Ryan’s breath muffled against his palm, quick and terrified, his body frozen with fear. _One quick slice. Blood everywhere._ _Kill him kill him kill him._

Jeremy’s knife wouldn’t move. 

Fuck. Fuck. What was holding him back? Was he losing his nerve? His first game night with the crew, and he couldn’t play on their level? No, that couldn’t be it, because this didn’t feel bad. This felt good. So good it was paralyzing, debilitating euphoria. He could hear Ryan’s breath, feel him trembling where they were pressed together. Ryan’s hands were lifted in surrender, gun parts dropped to the floor. Solid, warm, helpless, _his_.

He didn’t want to kill Ryan yet. Didn’t want it to be over. Didn’t want to stop feeling this high, the press of a terrified body against his, the panicked heat of muffled breath against his palm. He wanted to savor this. Draw it out. Relish it.

He wanted what Gavin had offered him. 

Jeremy leaned close to Ryan’s ear, the one without a com in it. He whispered, too soft for his own mic to pick up, barely breathing the words.

“ … You wanna fuck, Ryan?”

He could feel Ryan shudder, feel a muffled noise against his palm. Then, cautiously, he nodded.

“Drop your pants,” Jeremy whispered. “And don’t scream.”

He slid his hand off Ryan’s mouth. 

The next few seconds were some of the most terrifying of Jeremy’s life. Ryan’s com was close to his lips, his breath steaming on the mic.

Ryan swallowed. He lowered his hands, and silently, started undoing his pants.

Holy fuck.

Jeremy’s head was spinning as Ryan’s pants dragged down, sudden bare skin against his clothed body. He kept his knife against Ryan’s throat. Fuck. _Fuck_. He’d have to slice quick if Ryan tried to say anything. It would only take a fraction of a second to get out three accusing syllables. 

_Jer-em-y._

Then everyone would know, and every gun in the warehouse would be trained on his head.

As long as Ryan’s throat was intact, he could still rat Jeremy out. The knowledge should have moved Jeremy’s knife, but instead it moved his other hand, fumbling to get his pants open. This was more than just a head-spinning power trip, his arousal was so intense it seemed to throb in his skull. He groaned as he slipped his dick out, letting it sandwich between their bodies, pressed against Ryan’s ass.

“Saw Gavin earlier. He gave me something he thought I’d need.” Slowly, keeping the knife at Ryan’s throat, Jeremy slid his other hand down to retrieve the second item from his pocket, pressing it into Ryan’s unresisting hand. “Show me how much you wanna keep breathing. Finger yourself.”

Ryan’s hand shook as he took it. “B-bastard,” he hissed.

Jeremy’s jaw tensed. “Stay quiet or you die quicker.”

The pop of the lube bottle opening felt like a gunshot. Jeremy’s heart pounded as Ryan took longer to lube his fingers than Jeremy had ever seen him take before. He could feel Ryan’s slick fingers reach between their bodies, bump against his dick, then press into the crease. Ryan’s breath hitched as his fingers slid inside.

“Ah —“ Ryan bit his lip hard to muffle the noise. “Nnnh…”

The sound of a voice over the com almost stopped Jeremy’s heart.

_“Anyone dead yet?”_

_“Well, I’m not dead.”_

_“Nope.”_

_“Me neither.”_

Jeremy swallowed. “Not dead over here.” His voice almost broke. He could feel the shift in Ryan’s knuckles against his dick, hear the soft slick noise of fingers working. 

_“Anyone besides Michael got a full gun yet?”_

_“I’m getting real close.”_

Jeremy groaned and rolled his hips against Ryan’s ass. “I’m getting close too.”

_“The killer’s really laying low this round.”_

_“Bend over the table,”_ Jeremy whispered against Ryan’s neck.

_“Ghhhhh I don’t like it! I just want someone to die just so something happens!”_

_“You want me to shoot you, Gavin? I can make something happen.”_

Ryan’s hand pulled out from between their bodies. His fingers were still slick, leaving a smear on the rusted metal table as his white knuckles gripped it. Ryan leaned forward, as much as he could with the knife at his throat, and pressed his hips back against Jeremy’s dick.

It felt like begging. Begging for cock, begging for his life. Jeremy was only going to give Ryan one of those things.

It was a fumble to get his dick inside with his hand shaking so hard. Jeremy buried his face in Ryan’s neck with a groan as he finally sunk inside. Oh fuck. _Fuck_. Warm and tight and slick, and his to use however he wanted. He could hear Ryan struggling to keep quiet, hear muffled grunts and half-whines as he slowly sunk in.

_“Shit, guys, Ryan’s been real quiet. Ryan, are you dead?”_

Jeremy’s heart shot into his throat and he froze. His shaking hand pressed the knife harder against Ryan’s neck.

“ … Ryan?” he ventured. “Say something if you’re alive.”

Ryan’s breath seemed to stop. Jeremy’s chest heaved as he waited.

“ … I-I’m alive,” Ryan said at last.

“Jesus, man, it sounds like you’re trying to give CPR to your mic. What the fuck are you doing over there?”

Jeremy shuddered as he rolled his hips with sudden urgency. “Is it the killer, Ryan?” He hoped that the tremor in his voice sounded like fear. “Are you being chased? Who is it?”

Ryan swallowed, his hands shaking against the table, his jaw tense. “ … No,” he managed. “Just — out of breath from running up and down these damn stairs looking for gun parts.”

_“Huh, didn’t know there were stairs on this map.”_

“Yeah,” Ryan ground out, “that’s weird, right?”

Jeremy dug the knife in until Ryan winced in pain. “Are you sure it’s not the killer, Ryan?”

_“Found another gun piece!”_ called Jack. _“Just need a barrel and I’m armed!”_

_“Ah piss, I haven’t got a damn one!”_

Ryan’s whimper of frustration was so satisfying that Jeremy almost groaned into his mic. It was getting harder and harder not to let sounds of pleasure slip through his teeth. Ryan was so tight, strong thighs shaking under Jeremy’s thrusts. That panicked pulse must be racing against the keen edge of his blade, tender and vulnerable…

“Nnnh —“ Jeremy’s breath was getting heavy. “O-oh fuck —“

_“What? Who’s cursing? What’s going on?”_

_“I think Jeremy’s about to jizz.”_

Jeremy shuddered and his hips twitched. “Sh-shut up, Michael —“

_“Speaking of Jeremy, where the hell is he? I haven’t seen him once.”_

Ryan was half-snarling, half begging into the mic. “K-keep looking, he’s — ah — around here somewhere!”

_“Those must be some stairs you’ve found, Ryan, it sounds like they’re blowing you.”_

“F-fucking —“ Ryan’s exasperation dragged out of him in a long whine. “P-please—“

The _please_ was too much. The pleasure crested, and Jeremy’s desire to fuck was suddenly eclipsed by a desire to _cut_.

The knife slashed across Ryan’s throat, cutting through skin and meat and hitting bone. Ryan made a noise, a choked-off wet gasp. Jeremy made a noise too.

“A-ahhh —“ Jeremy’s hips jerked, pressing hard against Ryan as he came with blood gushing over his hand. “Oh fuck —“

_“What happened? Is someone dead?”_

“Nnnnnnh —“ Jeremy almost dropped the knife as his dick throbbed. He pressed his face into Ryan’s neck, shaking in the aftershocks. “N-nothing, nothing happened — oh fuck —“

_“Oh no. I don’t like how that sounds.”_

Jeremy staggered back, and Ryan slumped to the floor. In a daze, he tucked his still-twitching dick back into his pants. His gaze drifted down, and the remaining air left his lungs.

“Oh… fuck…”

The rush hit him like a sledgehammer, more intense than the orgasm had been. Jeremy’s chest heaved as he stared at the limp body at his feet. Each heartbeat was a deep, body-shaking pump that made his vision reel. The blood was hot hot hot, pouring like sweet wine down his arm as the knife wobbled in his hand. 

_Fuck… fuck…_

A squeak made Jeremy’s gaze snap up.

In the cracked concrete hall stood Gavin, frozen and blushing as his wide-eyed gaze jumped from Jeremy’s face to Ryan’s limp body. Jeremy’s hand tightened around the knife and blood dripped from his knuckles.

Jeremy grinned, gesturing with the still-dripping knife clutched in his fist. “You wanted a turn?”

Gavin bolted. Jeremy tore after him through the halls, footsteps pounding.

“He’s the killer he’s the killer Jeremy’s the killer!” Gavin was screaming into his com as he ran. “Aaaaaaaaah he’s right behind me! He got Ryan!”

Michael’s voice snarled through the mic. _“I goddamn knew it! Jeremy you sneaky little bastard!”_

A wild smile was overtaking Jeremy’s face as he raced through the warehouse after Gavin, knife dripping in his fist. “Hey, Michael? Guess what.”

_“What?”_

“Turns out I am that clever.”

_“You motherfucker.”_

“Yeah, my box wasn’t empty.”

“Michaaaaaael!” Each of Gavin’s screams sent fresh throbs to Jeremy’s dick. “Aaaaah Michael he’s gonna kill me, shoot him!

“Get back here, Gavin!” Jeremy’s foot skidded on the filthy floor as he shot around a corner. “Get back here you little slut, I’m gonna slit your —“

Michael stood at the end of the room, a pistol trained on Jeremy’s head. Gavin cowered behind him, clinging to his arm as if for safety.

Jeremy skidded to a stop. “Shi—“

Michael fired.

——

Jeremy opened his eyes.

The clone pod was a gentle nest around him, the glass top already slid open. He could hear muffled roars of laughter from the group communication, not quite loud enough to drown out the soft hum of the clone pods. Jeremy sat up, blinking away the softness. The big screen in the corner of the room was lit up with views of the warehouse, and in front of it stood…

Ryan.

His back was to Jeremy, just like it had been before Jeremy pulled out the knife. He was dressed in the simple spare clothes that the respawn room provided. As Jeremy sat up, Ryan turned around and smiled while voices cheered over the coms.

_“Holy shit, that round ended out of nowhere!”_

_“Michael, I thought I was a goner! You saved me, boy!”_

Geoff’s voice pushed through the cheering. _“Whoa whoa whoa, what happened? Who died? Is it over?”_

_“Michael shot that murderous bastard Jeremy!”_

_“I can’t believe Jeremy was the killer on his first round ever!”_

_“So Jeremy was the killer?”_

_“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure he was the killer,”_ Michael drawled over the com. _“He was holding a knife and fucking covered in blood. Hey, Jeremy, tell Geoff you were the killer, because evidently he didn’t hear it when you fucking announced it earlier.”_

Ryan leaned towards a mic. “Jeremy’s a little dazed right now, but he was definitely the killer.”

_“Did you get got, Ryan?”_

“I got got.” Ryan leaned back from the mic, speaking now just to Jeremy. “Not bad for your first round, even if you only got one kill.”

Jeremy smiled as he swung his legs out of the clone pod. “Yeah, but it was a damn good kill.” 

“Felt good to see Michael gun you down like a rabid dog.”

“Pssh.” Jeremy strode to the shelf of clothes. He grabbed a pair of boxers. “You know what else felt good? Cutting your throat while I came in your ass.”

“Touche.” Ryan crossed his arms, a small motion that Jeremy had seen him do dozens of times, achingly familiar. “I can’t believe no one caught you sooner.”

Jeremy pulled a shirt off the shelf, but didn’t move to put it on, his gaze snagged. _Ryan_. It was too much, suddenly, just to see him standing there. To see the shift of breath in his chest, hear his familiar low voice, see his neck unbroken by a slash of gore. No trace of the knife Jeremy had sliced through his throat.

Ryan’s brow pursed. “ … You’re staring.”

Jeremy looked away quickly. He tugged the shirt on. “Sorry. Uh. It’s good to see you standing, that’s all.”

A strange look was spreading across Ryan’s face. “ … That was your first time, wasn’t it?”

“I mean… that’s the first time I’ve fucked you today…”

“No, I mean that was your first murder.” Ryan crossed the room, stepping close to Jeremy. “That was your first time killing one of us. A Fake. Wasn’t it?”

There were no knives here, no guns, no concrete jungle hiding killers, but Jeremy’s heart was thumping all the same. The look Ryan was giving him felt more intense than any bedroom look.

“How’d it feel?” Ryan murmured.

Jeremy swallowed. “ … Felt like being alive.”

“Mmh.” He could hear the soft hitch in Ryan’s breath. “Damn. I’m glad I got to pop your cherry.”

The crackle of Jack’s voice over the com pulled both of their gazes back to the screen.

_“You guys wanna reset and go another round?”_

_“Yeah!”_

_“Let’s do it!”_

_“Hey, Jeremy, what did you think? You like playing Murder?”_

Jeremy crossed the room to the screens. He could see views of the warehouse, his buddies scattered through the complex. His fresh new body wasn’t flooded with adrenaline yet, but he could already feel his heart rate picking up.

He leaned towards the mic with a smile. “Let’s start the next round.”


End file.
